


As I Look Across the Water

by redwinehouse (orphan_account)



Series: Cranial Capacity INDEFINITE HIATUS, BUT A FULL STORY LINE WAS COMPLETED [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comedy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/redwinehouse
Summary: You are left alone as Mycroft drags Sherlock to jail for a personal grudge. Promising to break free from his chains, Sherlock asks you to meet him at your favorite spot. You learn that tranquility is a powerful thing and that you can paint an eternal picture with those that you care about the most.





	As I Look Across the Water

**Author's Note:**

> This entire chapter would not exist without Amy Winehouse's rendition of [Valerie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pAz9UpnRKw). I've had extreme writer's block up until now and this entire plot's bones come from this song. I have only changed are the nature of the crime, who committed it, and the universe it took place in (the characters, etc...). It also makes this chapter look like shit in comparison (and I stole a direct lyric and used it as dialogue) 
> 
> I hope it's good. If I go with the route I plan, the next one will be very fluffy, and then it's just angst, angst, angst, for a bit.
> 
> Also, you all read the last chapter a little less than the two before it combined and it's hilarious.
> 
> Let's go.

  


[ ](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)

  


As the sun rose, the light peaked through the curtains, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air and casting a warm light into the room. Unfortunately, it also cast its warm beam across your eyes, which you blinked blearily.

"Ah, come on," you groaned, grabbing your pillow and throwing it over your head. "-earlier and earlier every damn day."

"You talking isn't helping." Sherlock kicked your leg. "Be quiet," he grumbled, lying face first in his pillow. "-some people are trying to sleep."

You flipped him over and straddled his waist. "Well, time to wake up." You leaned over and began to gently kiss his neck, something you had recently learned was a much appreciated gesture. Sherlock swallowed deeply; you could feel his Adam's apple move under your lips. "How did you sleep?"

"Decently," he answered breathlessly as you tugged at his ear with your teeth. "I would have appreciated to have slept in longer after last night's activities, but this," he vaguely gestured to his neck, "-is enjoyable enough." He sat up so you were sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his waist.

" _How_ do you still remain a rude bastard in bed? It literally amazes me." Sherlock had took your hand and started gently kissing your wrist.

"I don't know. I'm Sherlock Holmes. It's part of my image."

"And breaking the law."

You screamed as Sherlock whipped his head around. "Mycroft!" He shouted angrily at his brother. "I realize that no one has ever loved you but even this is ridiculous," Sherlock scoffed as he got out of bed.

You silently blessed the heavens that you had both put your clothes back on.

Mycroft casually leaned against the door frame, drumming his fingers on his umbrella's handle. "It's nearly noon. You should have already been awake, dear brother," Mycroft said dryly. He looked up at you and gave you a friendly smirk, a feat only Mycroft could accomplish. "How are you, love?"

"I'm well. I actually have to go to work, so I appreciate the kick in the butt, although the method is less than desired. You?" To everyone's shock, Mycroft liked you – or at least "liked" you as he could in a Mycroft way. It had started when you had agreed with him on one of his blow ups with Sherlock's.

90.99.% of the time, you agree with Sherlock's methods. He was brilliant, imaginative, and fearless. That is why you loved him. However, Sherlock would do some things that would push things too far, and when he did, it was bad. He pushed your limit while working a child abduction case which had been running him rather ragged.

Sherlock had been convinced that the parents had murdered him, but he could not find enough solid evidence for a conviction. In a way to prove their guilt, he kidnapped their other child to gage the suspects' reaction and measure their emotional connection to their children. While his method worked, he had still _kidnapped a child._

Obviously, Mycroft had come down upon Sherlock with the fury of a thousand suns and Sherlock met him with just as much ferocity. You could only watch the clash of the titans for so long before you piped up:

_"Sherlock, you had no place to do what you did." Both men stopped mid-sentence and turned to you, their anger turning into confusion. You were sure that they had forgotten you were in the room. "You're the world's greatest detective and the world's only consulting detective, yeah?" you continued, looking Sherlock straight in the eye._

_His body started to relax. "Yes," Sherlock answered questioningly, as if afraid to hear what you had to say next. Mycroft's eyes darted between the both of you, never have seen this type of interaction between you before._

_"Well, you should have realized that this was not only the single solution to your problem, but possibly the most terrible one you could make." You held out your index finger and tapped it. "One, the kid will now be afraid of men, probably more so of men that look like you. Two," you tapped your middle finger, "he was traumatized by actually being kidnapped. Three," you tapped your ring finger, "Now he won't trust police officers. Mycroft is absolutely right. This is one of the worst things you have done Sherlock, honestly."_

_Sherlock just stared at you blankly at you for a moment before erupting, "You're supposed to be on my side!" He stomped the floor like a toddler._

_"Oh, don't have a tantrum," Mycroft drawled." He looked at you. "You seem to be incredibly reasonable. I don't know how you stay here, but I am glad my brother has found someone with a good head on her shoulders." With a twirl of his umbrella, he left the flat._

"So what do we owe this godforsaken visit?" Sherlock asked, putting on his house robe before pushing Mycroft out of the way to get to the stairs.

"Ah," Mycroft sighed contently, "I guess we'll have our chat downstairs." He let you go down first. You inhaled deeply when you stepped into the living room where Sherlock was already looking irritated. You saw John peak out of his room.

"I can't decide if I want to be a part of this or not."

You waved him over and laughed. "Let's just be spectators. We have blueberry muffins downstairs." That seemed to be enough for John, because he was at your side rather fast. The Holmes brothers were already downstairs and there was already shouting.

"I'll make the tea and coffee," John offered as he headed toward the kitchen, completely ignoring the dog fight.

You caught up with him. "No, I'm the only one who drinks coffee in this house. I'll take care of it." You had already reached the coffee grounds before he could protest and started the machine.

"I'm sorry, dear brother, but we are going to arrest you." You dropped the bag of grounds onto floor as three cups simultaneously fell from John's hands, crashing into a mosaic of broken glass.

Sherlock snorted. "Oh, come off it."

"Mycroft, what's this about?" you asked evenly, standing next to Sherlock

Mycroft casually leaned on his umbrella, one hand in his pocket and an ankle crossed over the other. "It's about the law. I can't stop overlooking everything Sherlock has done and is bound to do. The government –"

" _You are the government_ ," you all chimed.

Mycroft closed his eyes and gave an irritated sigh. "There are things that I cannot do, and that is babysit a fool for the rest of his life."

"Oh, _I'm_ the fool," Sherlock mocked.

"Yes, and you are being arrested for tax evasion. It seems that you have been considered an entrepreneur and dodging your income tax for the last several years."

You put a hand to Sherlock's chest, feeling that he was about to lunge at his older brother. "Okay. If he is being arrested, why are you here instead of the police? Is this even official? And will he be put into prison?"

"I came out of common courtesy. I believed that the news would be better received through a relative than a squad of a policemen. And yes, he will be going to prison. Today."

"That doesn't make sense," you shook your head. "He hasn't received any notices or warnings. This all seems very abrupt."

Mycroft shrugged. "Well, sometimes legal proceedings are hard to understand."

"Don't treat her like she's an idiot," Sherlock snapped. "That's the only sensible thing that's been said this morning." His next question dripped with sarcasm, "I'm assuming I will at least be able to change, or are you going to take away my dignity along with my freedom?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Go."

Sherlock took your hand and led you upstairs. As soon as you got into the bedroom, he began to get dressed in a hurry.

"I am not getting arrested for tax evasion. I've had an agreement long ago that I didn't have to pay a pound if I found the prime minister's Yorkie."

"Then what the hell is going on?" you ask desperately.

Sherlock hopped on one foot as he tried to get a sock on. "I stole something and Mycroft wants it back. He thinks this is the only way he can flush it out of me."

You threw your hands up. "Then fucking _give it to him!_! He's putting you in _jail_ , Sherlock!"

Sherlock waved you away with a flick of his wrist before pulling one of his button ups on. "I've gotten out of worse. I can't think of any right now, but believe me," He looked in the mirror, put on a black dress jacket, ruffled his hair, and turned to you. He put his hands on your shoulders. "I will see you again tonight at eight, wherever you want to meet me, do you understand?"

"I don't-"

He gripped you harder and gave you a little shake. "I just need you to trust me. Please don't be scared. Where and when?"

You searched his blue eyes and saw an urgency that you hadn't seen before. "Thames River," you whispered, "Battersea Park."

"Battersea Park at eight. I will meet you at that heinous peace pagoda thing." He drew you into a passionate kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." You followed him into the living room and watched Sherlock shrug on his coat. "Oh, Mycroft. Have you started pinching yourself yet?" he jested sourly. "-must be a great dream."

"Just get out and into the car," Mycroft drawled, jabbing his umbrella at the door. He briefly looked at you and John before he strolled out of the room. Sherlock was out the door with the swing of his coat.

"What the fuck," John had finally spoke.

You turned to him.

"Genuinely, _what the actual fuck?_ "

~*~

The skin was crackled and charred, much like a burnt rack of ribs one would usually find at an American backyard barbecue or cheap steakhouse. For you it was the flesh of a burn victim whose house recently caught on fire. He had been burned head to toe and unfortunately didn't survive. Fortunately for the sake of science, he was a body donor.

Today was not a good day. Burned remains were not easy; bones were near impossible to identify physically and chemically, which is not a problem you run into normally. Heat causes massive deformation such as dryness, shrinkage, fragmentation, and so many other things you did not want to think about. This all affected things such as the identification of sex, age, and species, but that didn't hinder you. It challenged you.

The weight and color of the bones gave you a rough estimate of the temperature of the fire that the individual was killed an indication of trauma on the bones. This guy happened to have a lot and his decomposition hadn't seemed to hide it.

"Interesting," you murmured as you wrote it in your notes.

Today was not a good day because your work was challenging. Your day was always good when your work was challenging. Your day was bad because your boyfriend was currently locked in a jail cell for stealing god knows what and doing something surely illegal knowing him. You wiped the sweat from your brow with your elbow.

"Hey, guys?" you called. Two of your new students were doing some basic cleaning of bones on the other side of the room. You were separated by a half wall covered in cabinets.

"Yeah?" they called.

"I'm going to head out. Start to clean up, okay?"

"Will do!"

"Okay!"

You rolled the body back to the decomp' morgue and put him in his cabinet before heading to the bathroom, cleaning up and changing into your day clothes. You looked at your watch. It was seven. You had half an hour to get to the park.

~*~

You made your way over to the peace pagoda and sat on the stairs. It was chilly, as per norm, but the moon was out and the Albert Bridge was lit up, casting shimmering lights on the water. You took a deep breath and sighed in content. You remembered why you used to come here so much.

"I don't know why you wanted to come here. The place crawls with tourists." A hand went over your mouth to muffle your scream. Once Sherlock knew you had calmed down, he pulled his hand away and sat down.

"You scared me!" You punched him in the arm.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and rubbed his arm. "Rude," he quipped.

It was quiet for a few moments before you explained, "Sometimes I go out by myself and," you shrugged. "I look across the water." you pointed to the lights. "They look like they're dancing. D'you know what I mean?"

Sherlock studied the river for the few moments and answered plainly, "No."

It was then that you were able to finally look him over. He was wearing a white button up dress shirt with two black epaulets, a black tie with two tie pins, black slacks, belt, and black oxfords.

"Are...are you wearing a guard's uniform?"

Sherlock looked exceptionally pleased. "Yes. Do you like it?"

You ran his tie trough your fingers. "Very much. Now what did you do?"

"I..." Sherlock turned to you, his voice deep and serious. "-purposely over-clogged my toilet so they would open my cell for it to be cleaned, disposed of the guard, stole his uniform, and...proceeded to cause a prison riot and slip out. Now I am here."

You nodded. "Okay. And what did you steal that landed you in jail, and will you go back?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft bought a decorative crocodile skin umbrella that was worth $50,000 and I don't believe such nonsense should exist. So I threw it in this very river so it could go back home. As for jail time, he's had his fun. I won't see the inside of a jail cell unless it's my own doing, so it will be never."

Your mouth twitched.

And then you laughed harder than you had ever laughed before, even when he told you about how he got addicted to cigarettes. You bent down and held your stomach, close to falling down the stairs until Sherlock grabbed you, laughing along with you. It seemed like it would never end until you hear a loud 'PLOP!' You both stood up and walked to the edge of the walkway.

"Is that-"

Faster than lightening, Sherlock had whipped out his phone.

"John?" Sherlock shouted gleefully into the phone."-get dressed or whatever you do before we go out because we have a Jack the Ripper copycat on the loose." He shoved his phone in his pocket.

Floating in the water was the body of a young adult female clothed in a tight mini skirt, fishnet stockings, glitter tube top, red pumps, and all of her sex organs ripped out and floating in the water around her.

Sherlock kissed your cheek. "You were right. The view here is lovely."


End file.
